Cellophane Flowers
by dear cecil
Summary: Medic drinks a can of Bonk. The results are somewhat frightening.


Based on a mini-comic about Medic, and his reactions to drinking some of Scout's Bonk. I don't even know, man.

* * *

Medic observed the youngest man on his team, the Scout, from beneath furrowed brows. Though he was sure much of it came from his youth, the man was simply too… exuberant. Too filled with life, too energetic, too able to _move _and _experience_ and _talk non-stop_, much to the chagrin (and wonder, in Medic's case) of his colleagues. Medic had, over time, come to realize that it must be the effect of one of the young man's many vices. Was it his near constant intake of sugary, syrupy foods? Perhaps, but Medic was almost certain that pancakes, though full of energy, would do more to weigh a man down than to make him faster, lighter.

That much was more than evident when he looked at Heavy. True, he loved the man—though the odds of him saying as such out loud were slim to none—but Heavy was a shining example of what not to eat, how not to behave. The fact that he, a medical professional (in a sense) was involved with the Heavy Weapons Guy, a large, beefy, _slow _individual… Well. The irony was not lost on Medic.

So it came to a point where he observed the Scout almost obsessively until, lo and behold, he found his answer. It had been so obvious that Medic might have slapped himself: The young man's energy drink, that repugnant sounding _Bonk_ that he was so proud of, was the source of his extra energy. Of course.

It was a matter of child's play to steal a can of the Scout's Bonk soon after Medic realized that it was his power source. All one had to do was wait until late night, when the Scout would inevitably 'crash' in his room, and open the refrigerator door. He kept so many cans inside of it that the fool would never even realize one was missing, Medic was certain.

He took it to the infirmary, which doubled as his room, and sat at his oak desk, hunching slightly to read it beneath the yellow light of his desk lamp. "Bonk Atomic Punch," it read. The flavor: "Cherry Fission."

"Now with Isotopes." Medic scratched his chin for a moment, then shrugged.

He turned the can on its side to read the ingredients. "Water, Radiation, Sugar."

The sugar must be what got the Scout going so fast, Medic decided, placing the can carefully into a drawer beside his right leg. He walked through the doorway connecting the infirmary to his room (kept locked at all hours of the day), and smiled when he saw Heavy already asleep, reading glasses still perched on his nose and a book unfolded atop his stomach.

"Ah, mein Heavy," Medic, murmured fondly as he placed both glasses and book atop a nightstand. He kissed the man's cheek before settling in to sleep himself, set to dream of what he could accomplish with the power the Bonk would grant him.

* * *

The following morning, Medic awoke with Heavy already out of bed. He frowned—usually the man ha the courtesy to wake him, so they could leave together—but shrugged it off, going through his morning routine before stopping at his desk and pulling out the can of Bonk. He slid it into his pocket and left the infirmary, feeling more than ready for the battle now that he had an ace up his sleeve.

He did not see Heavy all throughout breakfast, despite his quiet search for the man. He only bumped into him mere seconds before the battle commenced, and, upset that he had clearly been deliberately avoiding Medic (it was hard to miss Heavy normally), he did not speak to him. Instead, as soon as the battle began and the Scout was out onto the field, Medic took out his can of Bonk and drank deeply from it, draining the entire thing in seconds.

The effect was instantaneous. His pupils dilated, his heart felt like a jackrabbit's, and as he turned to survey the battlefield… everything seemed to be engulfed in sparkles. The land, the _people_, they were luminescent! His breath quickened, and suddenly, he realized he felt lighter than air. Still without a word to Heavy, he ran into the thick of it all, dodging bullets just as the Scout usually did.

Medic looked down at his saw, and it was golden; rays of sunlight shone from it as he raised it above his head, and when he jabbed the teeth of the blade into the enemy Soldier's trapezius, he laughed out loud. Life was fantastic! More than fantastic!

From the corner of his eye, he spotted a rainbow—no, two rainbows—and turned to greet it. Surely the blood smeared upon him would be a suitable salutation for the prism!

Medic was just beginning to approach it when he team's Spy ran from the rainbow, dipped in the colors of life themselves, a shimmering trail following him… and he understood. He ran in the opposite direction of the rainbows, fear coursing through him as he avoided the arcs of death, their swinging transforming from a joyful dance to a predator's toying with its prey.

It was only when he saw the giant, glittering mass that was Heavy that Medic truly understood. He stood behind the shield of shining wonder, the mass that turned to dazzle him with a grin that might have been comprised solely of diamonds, and felt that his appreciation—his love for Heavy was more than justified. He said as much as Heavy stoically mowed down their enemies with his shimmering bullets, their skulls bursting into dozens of lovely, glossy candies.

When the battle was over, Medic rested his head atop Heavy's in the privacy of his room. Heavy had dragged him there, the force of his iridescence too much for Medic to resist (plus his muscle). "Let us frolic, mein Heavy," Medic said eagerly, smoothing Heavy's shoulders repeatedly with his fingertips, watching in amazement as little, glimmering puffs of starlight erupted from his robe.

"Nyet," Heavy said simply, turning a page in his book. "Is best if Doktor stays here."

"But Heavy," Medic persisted, "frolicking! Or, rolling down a hill, or— or building ein pillow fort! I must!"

"Nyet." Heavy patted Medic's hand with his own, an affectionate smile on his face. "We are already in fort, Doktor, do not need pillow fort."

"But _Heavy_—"

"Nyet." He patted the spot beside him on the bed. "You sleep now, here with me, da?"

Medic twitched for a moment, but his need to be beside Heavy finally won over. Still, he jerked and muttered inane phrases beneath his breath for several hours, Heavy simply stroking his back the entire time, crystals and rubies erupting from everything he touched until Medic drifted to sleep, the kaleidoscope world too much for him.

* * *

"Good morning, Doktor," Heavy said the next morning, smiling. "Did you sleep well?"

"I…" Medic looked down at his hands, then back up to Heavy, who looked concerned.

"Something is wrong?"

"N-Nein. I just… had the strangest dream. Everything… It was as though I was in a boat on a river, with tangerine trees and marmalade skies. Somebody called me, and I answered quite slowly… A man with kaleidoscope eyes."

"Was not dream," Heavy said seriously, cupping Medic's cheek. "You drank Bonk, was very bad. You took your clothes off and listened to Beatles with Pyro, you dodged bullets with Scout, you discussed political system and necessity of some level of interference by government with Spy. Was very bad."

Medic clutched Heavy's wrist, touching a hand to his forehead. "Mein Heavy… If I ever do anything like that again, kill me."

Heavy nodded. "Da, I will."

"Thank you."


End file.
